


The Arcana - Flight or Fight

by SilenceNorth



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Grumpy sex, Not a ton of fluff, Pining, Smut, awkwardness to the maxx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 10:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceNorth/pseuds/SilenceNorth
Summary: Muriel and the Apprentice are hunting Lucio, only to find themselves in an awkward situation on the steppe when Morga gives them some strange orders.(This takes off sort of where Muriel's Book is stopped at this moment, minus the very end part, so if you haven't played through the latest installments this may have spoilers for you. I have included a lot of (expanded upon) dialog from the Novel until I write away from it, to which I give Nix Hydra credit, of course.)





	The Arcana - Flight or Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I've been struggling with using past and present tenses interchangeably, so if you see an error please let me know!

We’d been travelling for days, and each of those days were becoming more blurred, more bled into the next. The routines are the same as we hunted for Lucio deep into the South. Morga jostling or barking us awake to train at first light. More bruises and aching feet. More strange berries and grasses as the landscape changes and feeds us where it can. The constant, distant shape of our tracker as she flickers like a wraith at the edge of our vision, just out of reach, too angry to stop but too faithless in our abilities to leave us entirely behind. 

And so we followed, our horses long gone, the days becoming colder and colder until I am glad I’d brought with me my heaviest cloak. Muriel never did really begin talking, despite all we’d shared already. He barely looked at me, but that was nothing new. I felt him becoming more distant, even, his warmth dropping almost with the temperature.

I thought back to what he’d said about being from the South. I wanted to ask him what it felt like now. Did he recognize anything? Taste something he’d lost long ago? Did he know the dirt under his boots? But every time I turned to him, my lips parting to ask, curiosity chewing at my guts, he would turn his green eyes away and hunch deeper into his thick fur cloak as if he knew I could make him talk.

So I left him alone, for now. I would give him time to adjust, to feel at home again in this new, familiar land. But I wouldn’t let him shut down. I knew the moment he did, all the work we’d done until now would be lost. 

The trees began to thin, the bushes became lower and lower until we were trudging through grasses, and after that, lichen-covered rock and heather. I felt constantly in Muriel’s shadow, his hulking form seemingly always between myself and the white sun that seemed far too bright for it to be this cold. 

Inanna was often absent, supporting herself when she could, but the steppe did little to provide cover for a giant wolf. So she had to roam far and wide, and often we would see her in the evening when she brought her only kills; a hare just shedding its summer fur. A strange, round bird. A small pile of lemmings.

Muriel always let her have her own catches. It seemed like a system that had been worked out between them over the years. Offer, but only accept if it was truly needed. Muriel was fantastic with his fishing, catching plenty for the two of us. Even Morga seemed pleased at how well we were eating.

I thought back to when I’d watched him fish for us back in the forest glade, when he finally convinced me to slide into the water and learn to grab the creatures out of the current with my bare hands. His bared skin looked more delicious than anything we could have caught, but I didn’t say anything then. Since then, he’d done the same every time he’d catch fish for us, leaving his cloak on the bank to wade into the water which, farther south, got colder and colder. I enjoyed watching the goosebumps rise on his skin, see his cheeks flush with his exertions, his breath fogging the air. With his hair braided away from his eyes, I could catch every little snippet of expression he’d struggled to hide from me. 

He knew I was watching him, rather than what he was doing. I could see his eyes flicker to me beneath those heavy brows, see the gears frantically churning in his head as he struggles to decide whether to object or to ignore. He always chose the latter, which was usually fine with me.

That night, there was plenty to eat, and so the time usually spent foraging or hunting was snapped up by Morga’s latest idea. She tugged a torch up from the campfire.

“The two of you have learned everything you can on your own. It’s time you sparred each other.”

Casually, she pulled a pair of glittering knives from her belt and tosses them to the ground at our feet. I stared at them, but Muriel flinched away as if she’d meant to hit him with the blades.

“You said I wouldn’t have to use anything sharp,” he reminded her, his eyes wide. I could hear the panic rising in his voice. Lucio had forced him to fight against his will. To kill against his will. I could see it all begin to flood back, all those years of senseless violence brought to the surface by a few simple words.

“You aren’t a child, boy. This is part of your training,” Morga snapped. “How are you supposed to fight her otherwise?”

“Fight her?” Muriel gaped, as if he hadn’t truly realized the situation until the words were spoken. He looked pale, and cringes away. “No. I refuse…” He muttered, voice shaking.

“Quit fooling around! Do you want to let Lucio win?” Morga was gripping her spear hard. I could tell she was at the end of her patience, which was not long to begin with. “How do you expect to defeat him?”

“I already know how to fight!”

Morga rolled her eyes. “It’s been years. You’re rusty, and weak. You’ve already proven  _ that _ much.”

“No. I won’t hurt her.”

“Muriel-” I began, hoping to keep the peace between them, lifting a hand towards the slowly retreating man. He was shaking his head, taking more and more steps away from us, away from the firelight. I was losing him. His eyes held nothing but fear. Not of the blades. Not of Morga. Fear of causing pain, of hurting someone because he was made to do so.

“It’s-”

I couldn’t finish my thought, because the simple sound of my voice broke him, and he took off running with a swish of his cape. His silent steps caused him to disappear almost immediately after reaching the edge of the circle of Morga’s torchlight.

Inanna barked after him, her ears straight up, her fur bristling. Then she, too, took off, bounding into the darkness on his trail. 

I heard a soft scuff behind me. Morga’s eyes were squinted with annoyance. “Ugh. This is why I never had a second child.” She turned, spitting angrily into the grass. “Follow him, girl. You’re the only one he’ll even come close to talking to, and I need you  _ both _ .” She waves me off, turning to feed more fuel to the fire, paying me no further mind. 

As I conjured a soft ball of light, I could hear her muttering something angrily into the crackling campfire, but I was too concerned with listening for Muriel to stop and have her repeat it.

I kept the ball of warm light close as I called out for him, wandering farther and farther from the camp and hoping I’d be able to find my way back if I did find him. But I knew I wouldn’t go back unless I did, so I kept trudging forward. It was so quiet, and with no moon, I was the only light for what seemed like miles. The moss and grasses crunched softly beneath my feet, and the cold stole my voice from my lips as I called out again, and then again, Muriel’s name lifted up like the frosty clouds of my breath to be taken on the breeze. 

I couldn’t decide if I was angry with him for bolting. My chest ached with worry that it would be the last time I’d ever see him. He was so tedious, his connection to the rest of us fragile and new. All those years alone in that cabin without another person, with no need to speak or hide or hurt…

I heard the soft, echoing sound of a chuffing wolf far ahead of me. I picked up the pace, holding the light aloft so I could see farther, to keep myself from tripping on the mossy rocks. Far ahead, I could see a glimmer, a brief flash of green eyes. Inanna. She sat expectantly in the glow of my light, and then turned to look over her shoulder, gesturing me onwards.

I took careful, measured steps, afraid of what I might find. Was there a reason he didn’t answer me? Did something happen? Did Lucio-?

But no. There he was, hunched in the darkness, his arms around his knees. Beyond him, I could hear the whisper of gently running water. A stream. When the light touched him, Muriel squinted over his shoulder at me. His eyes were red and puffy.

“Go away,” he breathed, his voice cracking. 

I didn’t.

Carefully, I stepped closer, letting the warm light surround him. He was shaking. I could think of nothing to say, so I reached out instead. He flinched away from my touch.

“Don’t. I said go away.”

I could tell I was pushing him too far. I took a long, shaky breath. This was frustrating, like trying to tame a wild animal. But it would be worth it.

“Okay, I won’t touch you. But I’m not going away.” I settled down on the grass next to him. “Will you be alright?”

It was a dumb question, I knew it the moment I asked it. He didn’t bother to answer. No, he wasn’t alright. None of us were. Will getting rid of Lucio be the answer to all of our sorrows?

He startled me with a soft whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” I assured him.

“How could you possibly know,” he asked with a scoff, turning his face away. 

Because you’ve told me a million times already, I wanted to gripe. “Because you haven’t.”

“That doesn’t matter. My hands are stained with blood. You don’t… you don’t just forget that. People don’t just  _ change _ .” His voice cracked again. “This is who I am.”

I was speaking before I really knew what I was going to say. “It doesn’t have to be.” In the time I’d known him, Muriel had never scared me. Sure, he was big and scarred and glowered more than anyone I’d ever met, and he was horrible at interacting with people, but beneath all that he was kind. He was gentle. He never threatened, never made me feel like I couldn’t trust him at my back. Just the thought of hurting me had him in tears. He was a rock, but his heart was the shivering head of a dandelion, ready to break away into the breeze at the slightest chance.

“I trust you, Muriel.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as if my words physically wounded him, and he inhaled between his teeth in a soft hiss. 

“I don’t trust me.”

I felt my heart break a little, and though I had promised, I still couldn’t keep myself from reaching for his hand. My fingers brushed his, and he took it away, tucking it against his chest.

I felt myself grinding my teeth in frustration. One step forward, two steps back. “Let me prove it to you. Let me prove you won’t hurt me.”

He blinked at me, a little incredulous. Disbelieving. “How? By fighting me?” He straightened a little, and for the first time I could see actual anger on his face, the glimmer of far off, crimson-drenched memories. “I know how that goes!” His voice boomed a little over the water. “You , bloody at my feet. Just like everyone else.” He covered his face with his hand, since his hair no longer hid his eyes. 

It killed me to see him hiding. “Muriel-...”

“You have to let me leave,” he stated firmly, dropping his hand away, his face resolute if pinched. “You’re too… too important for me to be around. Too important to hurt.”

In a quick motion, he was on his feet again, and in a panic, I rose with him. No. No, he was going to bolt again and this time he could be gone forever. He’d return to the forest, only this time he’d make sure he’d never be found again. He’d never heal. He’d never be free. 

Desperately, I grabbed at his wrist, and he tugged, trying to wrestle it from my grasp. I didn’t think. I had to do something, had to make him stay.

I grabbed him, pulling him down as I fell a little awkwardly against his chest. It wasn’t a good kiss. My teeth knocked against his, and I had no idea where to put my hands once I’d released him. So I let them rest on his chest, ready to steady myself for when he shoved me away.

But the moment our lips touched, he became still. His hands came up slowly, open, helpless, and hovered over my shoulders, as if unsure whether to pull me closer or push. We were frozen like that for what seemed like forever, before the shock wore off and his lips parted from mine.

“Wh… what are you doing?” he asked in the smallest whisper, his green eyes wide and upon mine, so close.

Too close. I leaned back, a little stunned. Did I really just do that? “I… was kissing you.” I hoped he could hear confidence in my voice, because there wasn’t an ounce of it in my body.

“Oh,” Muriel breathed. He blinked. He scowled. His brow scrunched with consternation, with confusion. “Why?”

“I was scared that you were going to leave again.” I felt a lump rise in my throat, and suddenly I worried that I might not get out the rest of what I wanted to say. “I-”

“So you kissed me.”

“Yes!”

He blinked again, and there were those gears again, chugging away behind his eyes, trying to make sense of everything. “.... okay.”

He nodded just a little, as if deciding something, or as if he’d seemed to come to some sort of conclusion that I hadn’t. I wished he would have let me in on what was going on in his mind. But he wasn’t running away.

“It was… uh…” he attempted.

I decided to relieve him of the burden of trying to respond. “I’m sorry.” I said quickly, even though I wasn’t. Not even a little bit. 

My words took him off guard. He blinked down at me, and I realized his hands had drifted down to rest on my shoulders. “What? Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know!” Now it was my turn to change color, because I could feel the heat rushing to my face. God, what was I thinking?

He squeezed my shoulders, and it felt reassuring. Then he let me go a little too quickly. “It’s okay,” he said, but I wasn’t sure which one of us the words were for. He shifted awkwardly, his eyes on the ground. He lifted his hand and scratched at the back of his head, parting his lips to speak, but then changing his mind and falling quiet.

“You’re… not running away.”

“You surprised me,” he said in his own defense.

“Should I try again?” But better this time. I really, really wanted to do it right, with much less desperation and frenzied fear.

It was fascinating to see how many shades of red Muriel’s face could assume in the soft light of the magic orb. I watched it for a few moments, in awe. He attempted to speak several times, and when he finally succeeded, it was a half-hearted grumble that I couldn’t discern.

I leaned a little closer. “What was that?”

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “I said… that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. If you did.”

I felt my lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile. There, before me, was a crack in the ice that was Muriel.

I placed my hand on his arm to steady myself as I leaned closer. He was so tall, but I closed the distance by pushing to my toes, giving him plenty of opportunity to flee this time. But he didn’t, and even if his eyes were open, fixed on a spot over my shoulder, I could feel the excitement on his breath as my lips brushed over his own. It was easier this time. Softer.

I could feel him melt a little, leaning down to meet me, his head tilting just so. And the pressure of his lips on mine as he returned the kiss made my head suddenly feel light. Everything about him was big and warm and comforting. Those hands he claimed were stained with blood held me carefully, like a precious figure of glass.

In moments, I was wrapped up in the kiss like it was a warm cloak, and for a little while, the world was right.

But we eventually have to breathe, and there’s no shortage of reluctance when we parted. And when we did, it felt like everything had changed. 

The sky lit up in bursts of colors, the shimmering green lights of the south dancing through the stars, dousing us in their warm glow. The ribbons illuminate a sort of wonder on Muriel’s face as he craned his head up at them, and at that moment he looked very different.

“Muriel… your chains!”

“What?” He slowly lifted his wrists, staring at where the shackles should have been, then grasps at his neck. His collar, too, was gone. 

I spotted them lying on the ground at our feet. He bent to pick up the collar, frowning.

“I don’t understand…”

I reached out and grasped his wrists, turning them over to run my fingers across the scars that had built up beneath the shackles. He’d worn them for so long… 

“They were from the Coliseum, weren’t they?” I asked in wonderment. He’d been carrying these sins for years, and now there they were, powerless and feeble, on the grass.

“Yes, to remind me.”

He suddenly reared back and threw the collar deep into the darkness. I could hear the splash as it hit the water, the confused sound from Inanna somewhere on the other side as she tries to track whatever had made the impact.

He turned back to me, and for once, he wasn’t avoiding my gaze. “I… thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I admitted. “I think.”

“No you… you did.” He visibly steeled himself, then took my hands in his. “All I’ve ever done is run away. I don’t know how to do anything else anymore. But you came and… and you wouldn’t let me. You expected more from me.”

I could see it was taking a lot out of him to say these things, so I didn’t dare interrupt. I only gazed at him, drinking him in without the weight of his changed. He looked so different… so amazing.

“Even when I was mean, even when I tried to drive you away.”  
He looked down at my hands in his, opening his fingers to see them, small and pale in his grip. “And you’re patient. You give me time to talk, even... Even when I’m not good at it.”

I could feel him struggling, so I replied softly. “I’m not too great at it either.”

He smiled at me just a little. “Better than me.”

His smile nearly made my heart stop. I’d only ever seen him smile like that for Inanna. It made my mouth go dry. We were both such disasters. 

“We can learn together,” I whispered, my eyes dropping down to his lips. It seemed like forever since they’d been pressed against my own.

I saw him realize what I was thinking, saw it dawn on him that we’d already done it twice… what was the harm in a little more? “I’d like that,” he murmured, and his voice was a low rumble that I could feel thrumming through the air.

This time, he made the first move. The feeling of his arms sliding around me as he lifted me towards him made me seem weightless, and if my feet were still on the ground I couldn’t feel it. 

This third kiss was different. With his chains gone, Muriel felt more confident, more eager. He just didn’t seem to know how to show it.

I brought my hand up to his face, letting it sink into his hair, and showed him how to do it. I held him fast as I eased his lips apart with my own, teased him with the silky brush of the tip of my tongue, felt his breath hitch as I grazed his bottom lip with my teeth.

“Wow,” he breathed raggedly against my mouth, and the innocent adoration in his voice almost made me laugh with giddy excitement. He tightened his grip on me until I grunted, and all at once the pressure ceased and I once more found my feet. I whimpered with frustration when he pulled back, concerned. 

“I’m sorry… I squeezed too hard.”

“It felt good,” I told him, unable to breathe past the heat in my face. “I… I liked it. A lot.”

“You… did?” He asked carefully, perking up a little. “What else do you like?” He rested his hands lightly on my shoulders. I realised it was because he didn’t know where else to touch me.

“I like this…” I said, pulling his hands from my shoulders and bringing them down to my waist, my eyes on his the whole time. I saw them widen just a little when I settle his hands on either side of my hips. He kept them very loose.

“Did you ever get lonely?” I asked him, venturing into a subject I’d just barely touched upon before. “By yourself, in the forest?” I let my fingers slide up beneath his cloak. He was  _ so _ warm, and the flutter against his ribcage was either his heart or a captured hummingbird.

“No,” he gasped at my cold hands. “I had Inanna.”

I let myself laugh this time, turning him red when he thought I was teasing him. “No, no… were you lonely for another person? Someone to touch and hold and… kiss?”

“You’re asking me if…”

“If you ever got… hungry.” My eyes were on his lips again. Was I already addicted?

He swallowed. “I’m… human. I have feelings. But you don’t need another person in order to make those feelings go away.” He lowered his head to rest it tentatively against mine, more comfortable now that my hands had warmed to the temperature of his skin. I let them rove across his flesh, exploring, touching, seeking out scars I’d seen before but never felt. I felt him tense when I touched a deep scar on his belly, but when I glanced up, it wasn’t pain in his eyes.

“Have you… done anything like this before?” I asked carefully. He’d already shared so much tonight, I was worried that I would be taking it for granted. 

But he didn’t answer, just briefly bit his lip and shook his head.

“Me neither,” I admitted. “At least, not that I remember. This is all… new to me.” 

Muriel looked down at where my hand was beneath his cloak. “How… do you know what to do?”

I bit my own lip. “Sometimes you just… have to do what feels good. And you feel really, really good, Muriel.” I splayed my hands out on his chest, looking up at his face. “But I don’t want to push you. I don’t want to scare…”

“I’m not afraid,” Muriel admitted, his face soft. “Not of you. Not of this.” 

I parted my lips to speak, but he covered them with his mouth, kissing me again. I let my eyes sink closed because it was exactly what I wanted in that moment. No more talking, no more fear. Just Muriel, and his warmth and his smell and his soft lips on mine. 

His tongue slipped into my mouth and I thought my knees were going to give out. I leaned against him heavily, my hands pressed against his chest, his big arms around me and folding me against his warmth. I let my fingers travel over his skin, across his ribs, felt him fighting to keep still, to not cringe away from the touch of another. But like that night at the inn, he began to relax, letting me explore.

His back was just as perfect and delicious to my fingers, and I let out a little sound against his mouth to show my approval. He broke the kiss, pulling back just a little too look down at me. "What was that?"

"I… sorry. I guess I got carried away."

"No, no. I liked that. It was a good sound." His green eyes were wide, fixed down upon my own, his lips still parted from being against mine. "What did I do?"

"You just feel good against me. Your mouth and your body… you're so warm and um… hard." I was talking about his muscle, but the words I said caused him to pull back just a little, muttering a soft apology.

I didn't let him go far, gripping him tight. "Do me a favor, Muriel. Stop apologizing. There's not a whole lot you could do to me right now that I wouldn't like." I managed a soft, nervous laugh.

He seemed a little surprised. "Really," he mused, his face very serious. His big hand came up, brushing against my jaw, tilting my head just a little. "What about this?" I could feel his breath as he leaned close, and I shivered as his lips, then his tongue touched the side of my neck.

"Oh… oh Muriel," I blurted airily, feeling the blood rush to my face, but he seemed to like the response he'd gotten. He nuzzles a little closer, pressing hungry, open-mouthed kisses to my skin, leaving it wet to the environment. 

When he bit gently down, my cry echoed over the steppe.

"That is the poorest excuse for sparring I've ever seen," sneered a voice from nearby. Muriel and I split apart like repelled magnets, overheated and flushed and breathing hard. There stood Morga, frowning distastefully at the two of us.

"We don't have time for this. Get back to camp before you devour each other, or better yet, something else does." She flipped her spear, knocking the butt of it against Muriel's shoulder, causing him to flinch. "And don't forget the cursed wolf. She is worried sick."

Like chastised children, Muriel and I let ourselves be herded back to camp, silent in our embarrassment. She had sent me to convince Muriel to come back, to fight, but instead I'd made out with him like a teenager without supervision. I couldn't help but glance at him as we walked, but he kept his eyes firmly in the grass in front of himself, not looking up at me. Those gears were churning, once more.

Morga didn't push the knife fight when we returned, but she did make us take the weapons and keep them. To familiarize ourselves for when the time came, she said. Muriel held his like it was filthy, but it felt good and well-balanced in my hand. I kept it close, because Morga was right. We were running into this inexperienced and blind, she was just trying to make sure we survived. 

Every time I imagined the scene she had walked in on, I felt myself turn red. Sleeping on our mats that night was difficult, the awkward silence between the three of us filled with the trill of grasshoppers and call of nightingales. When it was finally my watch and Morga crept off to nap, it took everything in my power not to approach Muriel’s space. What was he thinking now?

But I let him sleep instead. We needed as much rest as we could afford with the days of travel ahead of us.

So I was surprised to find him awake when I went to get him for his watch. I settled in next to him on the mat, and he unfolded and pushed up to look at me in the dark. “It’s so strange, sleeping without the chains. It’s almost too soft now.”

I laughed softly in the dark, trying not to wake Morga. “Then a bed is going to blow your mind,” I whispered.

We instantly went silent, remembering the bed at the inn. The bed we shared. I picked at a blade of grass in the dim orange light of the fire. “Did we really do that? I mean, what we did near the stream? Did we really kiss?”

“Yeah, I think we did,” he grumps quietly. “As brief as it was.”

“You sound disappointed.” 

He turned to look away, so I couldn’t quite decipher his expression. I reached out and touched his scarred wrist. “We could do it again, sometime. As many times as you want.”

Murial looked down at his wrist, twisting his hand around and allowing it to envelope my own in a soft squeeze. “It’s my watch. I can’t be… distracted.”

“You’ve distracted me since I met you.”

“That’s not a good thing…” Muriel released me and moved to stand. Suddenly I felt very cold. I wrapped my arms around myself and watched him walk towards the fire to sit, his back to me, his eyes looking out into the darkness. The watch out here was almost silly. There was nothing for miles. 

I wondered if he was still worried about hurting me. Or perhaps he was afraid of Morga. As intimidating as she was, she wasn’t our mother. Nor was she in charge of what we decided to do instead of sleep. It might be my time to rest, but I wasn’t tired.

Instead, I got up from Muriel’s bed roll and approached him. He didn’t react until I settled to my knees at his back, wrapping my arms around his neck, my hands clasping at his neck.

“What are you doing?” Muriel asked, scowling over his shoulder at me. 

“Don’t pay attention to me. You have to watch, remember?” I chastised him. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I knew I just wanted to touch him. I felt his hair against my cheek, his warmth under my hands. I turned my face against his neck, feeling myself pressing my lips against his skin.

I knew nothing but iron had touched his scarred skin there, not for years. And now he was gasping with surprise, leaning his head away, giving me ample room to explore him and fire the nerves beneath his skin.

“You’re… going to distract me,” I heard him murmur, his voice hoarse. 

“There is nothing out there but Inanna,” I assured him. “She would warn us if…”

“Morga will be angry.”

“She is always angry…” I whispered into his ear, and before I could think about it I’d brought the ridge of it between my teeth, nipping gently. 

Muriel starts, and for a moment I thought perhaps he might jolt to his feet. I thought perhaps I had gone too far. 

“S-sorry,” I squeaked as he turned his blazing eyes towards me, filled with surprise.

“That felt good,” he admitted in a huff. “You... could do it again, if you wanted. Just surprised me.” He was very carefully keeping his hands on his knees as he sat crosslegged, but I could see his knuckles had turned pale in the firelight.

I swallowed as he turned away again, squinting off into the shadows. I felt like I now had this beast of a man to do with what I wish, I had no idea what to do with him. It was frustrating. 

Raking my hand through his dark hair, I nuzzled into the side of his neck, above the green scarf we’d gotten him at the bazaar. He smelled good, like a freshly carved piece of cedar, of sticky pine needles in the fall. I pressed against his back, melting against him with a sigh, and I felt one of his hands lift and take my wrist lightly, holding me there. I took it as an invitation to continue.

I let my lips travel over the scar across his neck, the rougher skin where he’d borne the weight of his chains. I could feel his pulse beneath, throbbing and hot, quickened with my touch. That I had such an affect on him, the Scourge of the South, made me shiver. It was power, and I wanted more. 

I dipped my head close, letting my cheek brush against his own, reveling in the scruff against my smooth skin. “You feel so good,” I sighed happily. He swallowed, and though I couldn’t see it, I knew his face was tense and uncertain, as it tended to be, but he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t running.

“I am glad,” he finally said, after having to clear his throat. 

“You’re so warm too,” I chuckled, keeping my voice a whisper. “Way nicer than the fire.” I turned my nose against his cheek and kissed him there, rubbing a little against him the way a cat might. It just felt right.

“You… make me feel warm. All over,” he admitted after a pause. His voice sounded so deep and low and I knew it had to be because he was trying to keep us from being overheard. But his words made me feel lightheaded, almost kind of nauseas. It was a good kind of dizzy, and I knew my cheeks were as flushed as his often got.

Once more I raked my fingers through his hair with my free hand, and he leaned into my touch. From the side I could see his lips part, his eyelids sink just a little. Oh, he liked that.

Slowly, I withdrew from him to stand, but I could feel him clinging just a little to my wrist as I got up to leave.

“Wait…” he breathed, turning to look over his shoulder. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmured, standing straight up behind him and slowly sinking both of my hands into his hair, curling my fingers against his scalp. I let just a little bit of magic slip into my fingertips, a soft tingle, and from the choked, soft noise he made I could tell it was working.

“That feels good?” I asked through my smile, massaging his scalp slowly, raking my fingers in gently furrows though his hair.

“Yes…” 

It was the most emotional sound I’d ever heard him make, desperate and practically dripping with pleasure. It was so passionate that it thrust the both of us into awkward silence, and I could feel him heating beneath my hands. He cleared his throat. 

“Yeah… it feels good.”

The damage had already been done. I felt a searing warmth in the pit of my stomach, as if I felt his voice had pierced me through to my spine. I had to part my lips to breathe, because the clearing had gotten just a bit hotter.

That this man was so starved for touch, for affection, that something this trivial made him groan like an old staircase said a lot about how long he had been in that hut. 

“I want to make you feel good Muriel,” I told him, resolute.

“You… you are,” he points out, confused, a little awkward at being forced to admit it yet again.

“Are there other places you want me to touch you?”

Immediately, I felt him straighten under my touch, going from lazy and lax to a rock, sitting upright and away from me.

“No,” he stated, heatedly. “You’ve done enough already.” He hunched away from me. “More than enough. Too much.” 

Frustration boiled up inside of me when he pulled away, but slowly his words sank in and I began to understand. So much in one day, after so many years. He must be feeling so raw and exposed, and I was only driving in the knife.

“Oh…” I settled on my knees next to him, resting a hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry Muriel. I wasn’t thinking. I’m being so selfish.” That wasn’t like me. I was always able to put myself in another’s shoes. If this had been different, if he had been pursuing me like this, despite my multiple attempts to ward him away, to deny him…

“Please forgive me. I’ll stop, I promise. I’m so sorry.” The want to touch him, to be near him, suddenly seemed despicable. No meant no. I covered my face in my hands. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

There was a long, tense silence that only lasted for a second, but it felt like eternity as I awaited his response, his reminder that he was on watch and that I needed to get some sleep.

But soon I felt his hand on my wrist, drawing my fingers away from my face so he could see my eyes. I lifted them to his own eyes so he could see the sincerity of my mistake. His face was worried, his brows low and seamed in the center over those dark green eyes.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m… I just…” He sighs in frustration, unable to find the right words. “You make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long, long time. I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I don’t want to mess this up, like I mess up everything else.”

I was already shaking my head, but his tightlipped frown made me stop. “You make me feel too hot, but I can barely stand to be away from you. It’s like I want you to burn me. Does… that make sense?” he asks, his voice still low as he draws my hand close. To my amazement, he presses it against his own cheek, watching me.

“You told me to stop apologizing,” he reminded me. “I will, but only if you do, too. Be patient with me… please. I’ll try.”

“Promise?” I asked softly, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I promise. I’ll try,” he watched me as he turned his face into my hand, pressing his lips against my palm in a kiss. The touch of his mouth against me caused me to hold my breath. Damn this man. Damn the tiniest things he did.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he gives me the tiniest smile. Not a barely-concealed smirk that others might give, but the overall softening of his features that let me know everything was going to be okay. 

I couldn’t help but throw my arms around him and squeeze him tight. I didn’t even care that it took an eternity to feel him hold me back, the pressure of his muscle closing me in sending my thoughts scurrying giddily in all directions. 

“Deal,” I whispered.

“Go to bed,” Muriel chastised as he slowly released me, nudging me towards my bedroll. “We will talk more tomorrow.”

My heart felt light at the promise of the new day, even looking forward to the training with Morga and the miles of rocky steppe they’d likely cover. And Muriel would be with them. He wasn’t leaving again.

The thoughts kept me comfort as I snuggled back into bed, watching Muriel’s silhouette as he sits by the fire, whittling something tiny in his bare hands. I drifted off to the sight of it, the peace it seemed to bring me, and my dreams that night were tinged with pink and filled with bare skin.

  
  


The next morning, I woke with a start because it wasn’t to Morga’s annoyed exclamations. She often took last watch so that she could rouse us early to break camp. My breath hung in the air and I shivered, glancing over to the campfire. It had dwindled. Where was Morga?

I drowsily plodded over to the campfire and fed it a few more cords of wood and lumps of peat moss. The refreshed light shone on Muriel curled up on his own bed roll, but Morga’s wasn’t to be found.

I inhaled, ready to call out Muriel’s name, to waken him, when I saw the note. I picked it up and squinted down at Morga’s scrawled handwriting.

“Get it over with. I’ll scout ahead for a few days and come back when it’s out of your system. You children are of no use to me like this.”

I gasped and scrunched the letter up, shoving it into my pocket as I turned red as a beet. What was that supposed to mean?  
At my gasp, Muriel began to stir. Almost at once he could tell that something was wrong, because he sat upright, his eyes fixed on me. 

“Where’s Morga?”

I turned away so that he couldn’t see the look on my face. “She… uh… went on ahead without us. Said she’d be back… soon.” I rifled around in our supplies, hoping to put something together for breakfast.

“What? That’s… not right. What if she runs into Lucio? Or one of his lackeys, like Vulgora?” Muriel climbed out of his bedroll, leaving his cloak behind. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his bare chest. Not now.

“Don’t worry about it. If she needs us, she’ll find us. She’s smart.” I was delighted to see we still had a few coffee beans left, and started to go about heating water.

“You’re taking this well,” Muriel huffed, but he moved to help grind the coffee. He was more of a tea person, but every once in a while the fresh smell of the grinds would draw him in.

I shrugged off his concern. My mind was still on the mess of dreams I’d had the night before. I stared down at the water as it began to bubble, seeing in it shapes and contours that I’d only fantasized about.

“Are you alright?” He came to sit next to me, and in the firelight looked down at my jacket pocket. “Are these the filt-....” He tugged out the paper before I could snatch it from him, his eyes skimming over the words.

“Wait!”

But it was too late. Both of his brows went up and his lips parted with surprise. “Oh. I…. I guess we weren’t as quiet as we thought last night.”

I snatched the paper from him and shoved it into the fire. “Ignore her. She’s been looking for a chance to ditch us from the beginning. We practically put it on a silver platter for her.”

Muriel rumbled something in response, but it wasn’t really a word. He looked out over the dimly lit sky, gauging the distance until sunrise. Perhaps trying to determine if we could still catch up with Morga. We both knew that’d be impossible. If Morga wanted to scout ahead, Morga scouted ahead.

“So how do we do it?”

“Hm?” I asked, still a little sleepy, afraid I’d missed something he’d said before. “Do what?” I sipped at the finished coffee.

“Get it out of our system.”

I sputtered into the hot liquid, splashing it onto my fingers, and hissed at the burn. He took the cup quickly from my grasp, concern on his features as I flapped my hands in the cold air like a distressed hummingbird. When the burning stopped, I stared at him as he gingerly gave me back my drink. He went about pouring himself hot water for his tea like nothing had been said.

“I… I guess she expects us to have sex,” I muttered around the rim of my mug, trying this sipping thing over again.

“And that’s it? Just do it, just like that and the ache will go away? Make us stop wanting to touch eachother?”  
That was a lot to take in at once, so I stalled by taking a few burning swallows of caffeine juice. He ached. The thought of him having the same needs as me, the same desires, made my pulse quicken. He wanted to touch me…

“She doesn’t understand. We can’t just… do it.”

“No…” Muriel admitted softly, hunching his bare shoulders a little. “I suppose we can’t.” 

My heart sank, but it was for the better. I had to tear my eyes off of the sensuous line of his spine, the way muscle packed into either side of it, contours and shapes of dreams, crisscrossed with scars.

My sigh must have been heavy, because he looked at me. “We’re closer than that. I think, if… that ever happened. I would rather… it was because we wanted to. Not because a note told us to.”

I sagged a little in relief. “I… think that’s good, Muriel. Me too.” I squeezed my mug a little harder, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in the low of my belly.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I could only stare at the fire. We were horrible. This was horrible. Maybe we  _ did _ need notes. Diagrams. Instructions. Just… maybe not written by Morga.

“The thing you did last night,” Muriel ventured as he sipped at his mug, sitting next to me. “With… your fingers in my hair. How did you know how to do that?”

I swallowed. “You seemed to like it when I touched your hair. So I… went with that. You did like it, right?” I cut my eyes towards him, brow furrowed in curiosity.

“More than I should have,” Muriel said, and it sounded like he was forcing the words through his teeth. “It was like my whole body was betraying me. Over something so…” He shrugs helplessly. “We are strange, aren’t we?”

I laughed at that. “I guess so, Muriel.”

He managed a little smile. “I … like when you say my name. It sounds good when you say it.”

“I like it when you say  _ yes _ ,” I blurted before considering the words. Oh god, he was right. We were so strange.

We managed to finish our liquid breakfast in awkward silence after that, the both of us forced to relive that embarrassingly sultry moment in our heads.

_ Yess… _

I could almost hear the hiss of it again, ringing through my ears. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to make him say it again and again. More and more breathlessly. I shivered.

When he slid his arm around me, I almost dropped my empty mug.

“You’re cold still,” he explained, pulling me close, and I hadn’t the heart to tell him that cold wasn’t what had me shivering.

“Thank you,” I said instead, tucking close against him, sliding my arm over his lower back. I just barely reached to his other side, so I gripped him there, fingers tingling against the curve of his hard flank.

We watched the fire for a long time, both of us hyper-sensitive to the other, tingling where our skin touched, trying to ignore our goosebumps. 

Finally, he broke the silence. “Can… we kiss some more? I really miss doing that. If you don’t want to… of course, we don’t…”

I didn’t let him finish, turning into him and looping my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to press my lips against his. I melted instantly against him, relief flooding through me as his lips felt like home. He had to keep me upright with how it felt to kiss him again, to feel his hesitation melt into gentle eagerness like quicksilver. 

I felt my hand drop to his chest, felt it explore hungrily over his pec, down over his ribs, across his belly. I reigned myself in quickly at the touch of coarse hair under his navel, gasping against his lips, but he took my wrist in a tight grip and brought it back where it was.

His lips broke from mine to speak, but they didn’t stray far. “This… is where I wanted you to touch me,” he said in answer to my nocturnal question.

“Here?” I whispered, boneless in his arms, my eyes barely open as I breathed him in. I let my fingertips trail over his navel, the big scar that slashed him above it, the trail of hair that disappeared behind his belt…

He answered me with a look, one of uncertainty and careful, hesitant bliss. I continued to explore him lazily, then curled my fingertips into light claws, raking them over his skin. Feeling him tense and gasp made me smile. 

“More?” I asked him in a whisper.

He doesn’t look at me, but I could see his throat work as he swallowed. I hoped so badly he wouldn’t say no, but if it was to be…

“More,” he agreed, and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

“Let me…” Slowly, carefully, I pulled myself from his side. He watched me every moment like a hawk, confused, until I stepped over him and began to settle into his lap.

His hands shot out in a panic, catching my hips before I could rest against him. “What are you doing?”

I froze. “Getting… closer?” I offered. “Do you want me to go away?”

“No… I…” His face flushed, and he looked slightly panicked. “I just didn’t… I have… ah…” At the furtive glance down, I knew instantly what he was embarrassed about, and my pulse quickened.

“Let me feel it…” I whispered, my hands covering over his. “Please? I want to be close to you…”

Slowly, hesitantly, I felt the pressure of his grip on me lessen. He kept his hands on my hips, but let me sink down against his lap, my thighs folding to either side of him. “See? I’m okay…” I cooed, giving him my full weight, almost all of my attention to the heat, the hard length of him pressing against the fabric of his pants down his leg. Pressing against  _ me _ . 

“It’s okay?” he ventures in an echo, still uneasy.

It was more than okay. It felt amazing to know that he wanted me. That I made him feel good, after so many years…

I slid my arms around his neck, settling close, feeling his warm, bare chest against my own, his lips soft when I brushed my own against them. “It’s good. Very... very… good…” Something possessed me to roll my hips just a little, and I figured it was the best way to get more comfortable, to sit more fully into his lap. But the way it  _ felt _ , dragging across him just so, the roughness of our clothes, the way he suddenly squeezed me.

“Oh…” The sensation surprised the both of us, and I did it again. 

Muriel had gone to kiss me, but he froze against my lips at the movement, emitting a low groan into my mouth. Embarrassed, he pulled away, but I didn’t let him get far. Was this like sex? The slow and gentle writhing of bodies, the spark of nerves, that throbbing pleasure?

No, there had to be more to it. Something had to satiate this heat.

“I want to…” I whispered, but Muriel had moved just a little, shifting his own hips, pushing up against me. I threw my head back at the sensation, eyes squeezed shut. Something about the rub, the heat, the pressure of him.  _ Him _ . Not just anyone. And it’s slashed my thoughts to pieces. 

“Want to what?” Muriel’s voice was so  _ deep _ . I could almost feel it rocking my core with his words. He lifted his head to watch me, and I knew the look on my face must be a sight to see.

I swallowed. “I think I want to… get it out of my system…”

He grew quiet for a moment. My blood turned to ice as I once more felt like I’d pushed him too far, especially when he began to pull me off of his lap. Oh no…

But then he’s pushing me back, pressing me to lie down on the fur we were sitting on. “Show me how…?” He asks, naive and open and definitely so embarrassed. His shoulders blocked out the light of the fire, of the slow dawn. Suddenly, it was far too hot, and I began to clutch at the fastenings to my clothes.

When he saw what I was doing, he began to help, pulling off what little I wore to sleep. I’d been naked before in front of people, I knew. It had never bothered me in the past. But having his eyes raking over me even in the dark felt like the drag of hands and fingers and tongue, and I felt goosebumps litter my skin as I leaned back against my hands.

“You’re… pretty,” he said in distracted awe, his hand reaching out, hovering over my belly as if afraid his touch might break me. I smiled wryly at him and pulled his hand against me, letting it rest up a little farther, over one of my breasts. “And… soft.” He edges closer, fixated, looming over me as he leans on his free hand. “Can I keep going?”

I arched against his touch. “ _ Please _ keep going…” I purred desperately. The touch of his calloused hand was like a drug. Now I knew how he felt when I’d massaged his scalp. 

I leaned back, watching his face as he, in turn, watched where his hand was going. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy the way I’d squirm a little at the touch to my nipple, the way he could make goosebumps rise on my flesh as he stroked across my collarbone. He sat back a little, dragging his hand down over my belly, and the little ring pierced into my navel gets an experimental, gentle tug. He really did seem to find me fascinating, but I was so ready to blow his mind. 

I bit my lip and drew up one of my knees, then let my thigh fall open, baring myself to him. I could see his eyes dilate at the sudden pink, supple flesh. He looked up at my face, unsure, a little dazzled. 

“Please?” I murmured, my mouth suddenly dry.

He didn’t take his eyes from my face when he dropped his fingers down between my thighs, so he saw the whole gamut of expressions I went through to feel his touch. 

“Oh…” I clapped a hand lightly over my mouth, unsure of what might come spilling out. His face was fuzzy in my eyes as his fingers slid through my wetness, jolting me with electric pleasure. And I was  _ wet _ . I almost squeezed my thighs together in embarrassment when I felt myself coating his fingers, and he hadn’t even…

“Open more?” He breathed, and I did exactly what he asked, letting my legs fall away, giving him everything. He looked down, rolling the pads of his fingers over a nub of flesh that had me jolt and cry out.

He blinked up at me, concerned, but seeing my face contorted in pleasure instead of pain, he did it again. “There?”

My hand fell away from my lips as I cried out, my body feeling suddenly damp. His eyes were too intense, his touch too familiar. I emitted a long, whimpering groan, biting my lip. 

“You’re so small…” he noted, his voice hoarse, so close. “How…”

I didn’t know how to assure him. I didn’t know anything at that point, only utter bliss, of a hunger that still needed more.

“I-inside…” I gasped. “Please... Muriel…”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. The wetness led him right to where I needed him to be, and he slid his middle finger into my warmth with a slow, steady push. 

I grasped at him, arching my back.

“Does… it hurt…?” Muriel whispered, his breathing heavy and hot.

“No!.... Please, give me more…” I begged him. I felt him shift to stretch out next to me, resting on his arm as I rolled towards him. He pulled his touch free to let me wrap a leg over his hip, crushing my lips to his. But then he was back, curling a hand under my thigh, sinking two of his fingers in deep. 

I sobbed with pleasure against his lips, unable to keep my hips from moving, from rocking hungrily against his hand. Where were these needs coming from? How did I know just how to move to feel so good? How did he know to curl his fingers just so… how to crush me against his chest, how to move with me to heighten the pleasure.

“Tight…” he gasped in awe, taking my bottom lip in a hungry bite that made me clench around his fingers. There was a soft, wet sound and it took a while to realise that it was me, clenching around his dripping fingers, lewdly taking him deep into my core. 

I moved against him in a way that felt so dirty, but there was little I could do to stop myself. I was lightheaded, gasping, the pressure in my belly and behind my eyes building with every little movement, every brush of his lips against my skin. I arched my leg over his hip, every muscle taut, and somewhere in the fog of my brain I could see, could feel him moving to, pushing against me, rocking me slowly.

Stars exploded behind my eyes and I felt all the blood rush to my head as if I’d been hung upside down. My whole body clenched at once and  _ throbbed _ , and my heart seemed to skip a beat. For a split second there was nothing but me and that heat at my core, the pressure, the slick wetness. 

When my senses came back to me, I could hear the echo of my sounds just dying away, and Muriel was looking down at me, eyes wide and lips parted with heated breathing.

“Are you okay?” he rasped, dragging his fingers from my body.

I gasped and squirmed at the sudden loss of him, but I was still afire from my orgasm. Everything tingled, throbbed, and seemed to settle into place.

“Y-yeah…” I chirped with a stunned, short laugh. I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh god… was I loud?”

Muriel was panting gently, and his lips pulled into a little smile. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Pretty loud. That was… good. Really good.” He heaved a soft sigh, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. “Are you better?”

Was I? For now, I suppose. I licked my dry lips. “I think it’s a start,” I murmured, then chuckled at his amazed expression. “What, did you think that was all?”

“I didn’t… know if…”  
I blinked slowly, trying not to let those brief flashes of him fade from my memory. There had been something so good and primal about him moving against me, doing what he felt he needed to…

I slowly let my thigh slide down off of his hip, then, curiously, reached down between us and cupped him through his pants. Well, attempted to anyways. What I felt beneath was far larger than what my hand could grasp.

His whole body tensed like a snake ready to strike, or a deer ready to bolt. 

“Shh…” I soothed, leaning up to brush my lips against his own. “It’s ok. Let me feel you.”

It was only fair, after all. Besides, I couldn’t resist how his breath caught, how red his face was beginning to get in the darkness. 

I explored him slowly through the light canvas material of his pants. He was all heat and solid weight, the long line of him straining the cloth a good portion down his leg. It had to be uncomfortable…

I looked up at his face. His eyes had closed as he’d begun to relax, his face a little slack as all of his attention seemed focused on my touch. We were both stretched out on the sleeping fur, our free arm pillowing our heads, our faces so close. 

My fingers slipped over the thick ridge of the head of his cock, and he jumped again, his eyes slitting open as he released a groan from between his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” I asked him, feeling the warmth already building in my core, feeling the soft throb turn into a dull ache of emptiness, of hunger. 

He only nodded, perhaps not trusting his voice, but I was surprised when he reached down with his own hand. At first I feared he would push me away, but instead he took my wrist, guiding me to drag my fingers a little harder, a little more earnestly against him.

“Hold on,” I whispered, a little dazed as I pulled away and began to work on his belt. He opened his eyes to watch me, but though I could tell he wanted to ward me away, he nonetheless bit back the urge, tightening his lips. I went slowly, giving him lots of time to deny me, to push me away, but he did nothing, and soon he was squirming out of his clothes as well. 

His length was massive and heavy, etched with veins and tinged darker than the rest of him. He tried not to look at me while I looked at it, but when I reached out again, he emitted a low groan and pushed into my hand. He was fever hot against my palm and fingers as I wrapped my hand around him, and when I squeezed his free hand shot out and gripped my shoulder.

“Want me to stop?” I whispered, eyes wide in the dark.

“No…” he uttered before I even finished my sentence.

“Do you… want to try?”

“Try?” He looked up at me, wetting his lips, his eyes dazed. “Try to w-... oh.” He blinked once, twice, trying to gather his thoughts. His body was screaming yes, but Muriel was still Muriel. “It won’t work.”

“Of course it will work!” I laughed gently, but bit off the sound when he squinted at me. “You have seen animals do it right? It’s just like that.”

“Just like that,” he huffed, pulling slightly away from me. “It’s not that easy.” 

My heart began to sink. “What do you mean? Muriel… please…”

He let me pull him close again, let me wrap my arms around him, let me nuzzle into his chest and breathe him in and feel his big, warm body against mine. “Don’t push me away. I want you...”

It wasn’t the first time I’d said it. The first time had been an accident (or had it?) a slip of the tongue that had put us both deep into an awkward silence. Yet now I couldn’t have meant it harder.

I felt him shift, felt him push me to my back, saw him supporting himself on his elbows as he tucked his head down to look at me. I bit my lip, trying not to groan at how good his weight felt on me, pinning me down against the ground. 

“You want me?” Muriel demanded, his voice barely more than a whisper, almost disbelieving. My sight was filled with little more than his silhouette, his hair falling down over his eyes, his bulging muscle gleaming in the firelight.

_ More than anything right now _ , I wanted to scream, but instead I could only nod. I dug my heels into the ground and arched myself up against him, and it was just right to feel him slip between my thighs, the weight of his cock dragging over my slick folds. 

I threw my head back to gulp cold air while he made a sound that was almost of pain, his own hips rolling forward, nesting the head of his cock against me.

“There…” I groaned, raking my fingernails down the front of his chest. “Muriel… there… please.”  _ Almost… almost _ …

It took a few tries. A few botched grinds that had him slipping, sliding across my core, skidding over my dripping flesh. But each was like a star burst of pleasure to my already sensitive nerves, and when it happened, it  _ happened _ , and my world narrowed down to the slithering friction of being spread apart, of that throbbing heat becoming part of me, of that pressure building and building until it reached near pain, and then it built some more as he pushed with all the power in his back and thighs and belly. 

I could feel the rush of air as it got shoved from my lungs, my body taking him as best as it could. It seemed like I could feel him clear to my spine, filling that hungry emptiness, making me feel sluggish and thick with his cock buried only halfway. Then the tide turned and he pulled just a little, only to rush forward with another blinding push, hilting within me.

His hips nearly flush with my own, he slouched above me on his elbows, panting with the strain of the sensations building up on him, on me. I snaked my fingers through his inky hair and clenched them, and he tilted his head up, groaning through his teeth. 

“That’s it… go… yes…” I panted, arching my back until my breasts squashed flat against his chest. Then he started to move, rocking me beneath his heavy body, shoving me up just for me to rock back down.

I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I could only clutch onto him for dear life as he stripped me raw, the heat of his body blazing through my own. The ridged head of his cock caught briefly against something deep inside, making me yelp and squeeze him harder, and he pulled slightly away from me. I inhaled sharply to let him know that I wasn’t hurt, it didn’t hurt, but then his big hand curled around my throat.

My gaze instantly turned to pink as I watched him looming over me. He wasn’t looking at my face, but at the point where our bodies met, my pink flesh wrapped so tightly around his cock, glistening wet in the dim light. 

My hands went to his wrist, but he was squeezing only a little, only enough. His teeth were clenched, his brow low over his eyes as he watched himself sliding, plunging, and I let my legs fall farther open to let him see…

“Hahhh… fuck…” I choked out. “Muriel…” I could feel a second orgasm building with every bruising shove, every slick drag of him as he pulled free only to slam his hips home. I gasped for more air, feeling it cold on my tongue like the first taste of snow.

His mouth opened, his breaths laced with gentle grunts, desperate moans of bliss. I released his hair and slapped a hand over my belly, where I swore I could feel him stabbing through me. It was a pleasure pain that needed only one more thing. I let my hand sink lower, letting my fingers dance over my clit, swirling against the sensitive nub until my vision blurred with giddy ecstasy.

The combination of the pressure on my clit and his callous rutting into me was enough to send me over the edge. It lasted forever, sending me squirming, panting, clutching at his wrist, his shoulder, anywhere I could anchor myself. I screamed out his name and he barreled into me harder, taking out years of hungry frustration in desperate, fiery movements. 

He released my neck and I gaped for air, my whole body thrashing beneath him as he pinned me down, driving the breath from my lungs with a harsh shove before he became still, his whole body shuddering with the pressure.

Warmth flooded me, the twitching at my core only stimulating already-raw nerves that had me sob with release. I wrapped my legs around him, squeezing him hard, clutching him in desperation as he emptied himself entirely, burying his face in my neck as he growled against my skin.

We came down together, pulsing, throbbing, dripping, locked together like a seized bolt. For a long time we had no words, not until our muscles gave way and one by one the holds we had on each other melted into slow, shivering caresses. And then the steady, messy pull that separated us, sending us rolling to our backs to let the icy morning cool our heated blood.

When I could finally talk, my voice cracked a little. “I… I’m…” I swallowed. “Glad no one is within earshot…”

“I think Vesuvia still heard you,” Muriel said in a soft, content sigh.

I looked over at him, his chin tilted up to the sky and his eyes closed, just letting the breeze lick over his overheated skin. He looked so content, so happy. For once, he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to pretend or fear. For once, he was just Muriel.

I rolled towards him, resting my chin on his chest, and he opened an eye to look at me. “Well… what do you think? Is it out of our system?”

Muriel snorted, closing his eye again. “We have the next few days to find out,” he whispered, tucking his arm around me, resting it lightly over my back. “You know. Just to be sure.”


End file.
